


My Children

by KaminariDenki



Series: Warriors Shipping Collection [2]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 22:12:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15253149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaminariDenki/pseuds/KaminariDenki
Summary: Thrushpelt's point of view during his fake fatherhood.





	My Children

The pale tom paced nervously, the pain-filled caterwauls of Bluefur reverberated in his ears. The camp was too tight, too stuffy and there were too many cats crowding him. He couldn't hear the reassurances of his clanmates, only Bluefur's cries. He shook his pelt, sitting himself down on the dusty camp floor.

She's gonna be okay, she's gonna make it. The kits are going to be beautiful and you're going to be a great father, he thought, chanting the words like a mantra.

He had heard many past cases of queens bleeding out during birth, or kits being born dead or dying soon after and he couldn't help but worry. He desperately hoped to Starclan that both mother and kits would make it out alive.

The wailing ceased and his ears pricked as tinier cries sounded. His eyes widened in wonder as the beautiful sounds of kittens erupted from the nursery. He hurried into the den, his worries drifting away at the sight of Bluefur, her body wrapped around three stone-grey kits.

"How is she?" He asked, glancing towards the medicine cat, noticing the bright expression on his face. Featherwhisker assured him the family was alright and that two she-kits and a tom had been born. He nuzzled Bluefur's cheek, listening as she purred.

 

* * *

 

Thrushpelt peered into the dark den, blinking and adjusting his eyes. He could just barely make out Bluefur's smooth pelt, curled tightly around her kits. He stepped forwards, creeping silently through the mossy entrance, the brambles and ferns covering the floor crunching underneath his paws.

The tom dodged around a tail lying carelessly and nosed himself around his pseudo–mate. The queen hummed in content, her paw moving to rest against his shoulder. In response, Thrushpelt lapped gently at her forehead, his tail swishing protectively over the newborn kits tucked comfortably under the two cats. Thrushpelt purred warmly, laying his head down and touching his nose to Bluefur's, feeling her breath breeze against his face.

The kits may not be his, but Starclan be damned, he'd protect them with his life.

 

* * *

 

" _My kits_!" She shrieked, her head whipping up. " _My kits are gone!_ " Despair filled her misted eyes and her claws dug into the ground.

Thrushpelt's chest tightened and he stared at her, eyes widening. He stumbled over to the nursery, where Bluefur sat, sobbing painfully into the pelt of a grief-stricken Rosetail. Thrushpelt stuck his head into the den, and indeed the kits were gone. The moss where he expected them to be laying was empty and shredded, the bedding scattered carelessly around.

In the corner, White–eye was cowering, tail wrapped protectively against her two trembling kits. Their eyes peeked over her fur, gazes filled with fright and curiosity. But he was focused on the large hole in the back of the brambles, fit for a fox to slip through. When he exited, his eyes met with Bluefur's.

Her expression changed to that of guilt and he pressed his muzzle to her cheek in hope of comforting her before he blindly stepped away, his paws taking him to the warriors' den. Adderfang and Robinwing pressed against his sides but he shook them away and fell onto his nest, bile rising in his throat as he curled up into a miserable ball.

He thought he would be the perfect father. He had hopes, dreams, he wanted to watch Stonekit and Mistykit and Mosskit grow and age. He wanted to watch them train and play and cheer for them as they receive their warrior names. But those dreams died, along with his kits.

 

* * *

 

His eyes slid shut, his body weakened and his bones aching. The hunger that had gnawed at his stomach was slowly dissipating and a warm glow replaced the harsh leafbare winds that pulled and pushed at his fur. He laid there, numb and dissociated for a long time. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't in the familiar forest he'd grown up in.

Large, sparkling white trees stretched across the land, the horizon painted a calming grey, the sun no where to be seen. Brambles and bushes painted the grass, which crunched somewhere nearby. A cat was approaching.

When he sniffed the air, he smelled a scent he didn't recognize. When he turned, a small white and grey kitten entered his vision. It raised its tail and trotted closer, pressing its nose into his shoulder. When it looked up, warm blue eyes met pained green ones and Thrushpelt felt his entire frame tremble.

" _Mosskit_...?" He gasped, jaw hanging open. He glanced around, trying to spot her two siblings, but it seemed they were alone.

Mosskit beamed brightly and she scrambled to stand in front of him, her tiny head nestling under his chin. A purr caught in his throat and he sobbed, wrapping his paws around her and pressing her closer to him. He spent days and nights searching frantically for the three missing kits, desperate for even just one sign of them. But nothing showed up, not even a body.

"Where..." He choked out, "Where..."

Mosskit head butted his muzzle, "It's okay, I understand. They're fine. They're alive."

Thrushpelt inhaled deeply, his breath shaky with emotion as he nodded, standing up. His kits, his beautiful kits. They were okay, they were fine.

"I'm sorry you didn't make it," he mumbled to the spotted kit staring brightly up at him, guilty that she wasn't able to feel the exhilaration of dancing through the forests and pride for making it to warriorhood.

The kitten just shook her head, her tail flicking along his flank as she led him through the trees. "My brother and my sister are okay, that is all that matters. I may long to be together with them, but my fate is to watch over them among the stars."

Thrushpelt smiled, his body feeling refreshed and new and his mind pleased that when he joined Starclan's ranks, he was able to see one of his kits again.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Thrushpelt so much and since Bluestar's prophecy was focused more on Bluefur, I wanted to try and write out the events prior to and post her kitting in Thrush's point of view.
> 
> I was pretty damn sad she didn't chose him as a mate. But I guess if you don't love someone, there's nothing you can do.


End file.
